


Midnight, the stars and you

by strongjaw



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Gifts, camp talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7448161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strongjaw/pseuds/strongjaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evenings at the camp with fellow Wardens</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bhelen is the King and Aeducan is done with Orzammar

When they finally got to the surface after visiting Orzammar, the sun was setting. Glatywyn couldn't wait to leave the dwarfs' kingdom, and even the new king himself couldn't convince her to stay there for another night. The party was tired, but everyone agreed to walk as far as possible before settling a camp. The night wind was refreshing, they could see the mountains becoming less, and the stars made it easier to forget dark ceilings of the underground city.  
  
Now was time for a proper rest, but it seemed like too much air, so Glatywyn couldn't sleep. It was also fear that kept her awoke. She didn't want to see Orzammar ever again, but every time she closed her eyes she saw blood - Trian's, Branka's, Broodmother's blood; her own blood when she crept too close to the huge body of abomination. Even though Glatywyn couldn't see dreams, she saw the Fade; she was afraid of nightmares ever since.

The dwarf was sitting near the fire sharpening her blades when Alistair came out of his tent. "Pardon me for intruding, Your Highness,” he bowed mockingly and landed beside Glatywyn, but she didn't react. That probably was not a good start, but Alistair kept trying. "So, princess of Orzammar, huh? I thought I was the only secret royalty with dark past here." He arched his eyebrows. The effect was not achieved though, Glatywyn just lowered her weapons and tilted her head:  
  
"Yes, you are. I am no more royalty. Regicide, parricide, exile, remember? You heard it all." She waved her hand, venom in her voice, knives clinking dangerously. Alistair shivered. He wished he'd brought his weapon to sharpen as well, since he couldn't sleep anyway. Doing something useful could probably lull him, but sitting with another fellow Warden was rather unsettling.  
  
"Yes, that was... informative. They were so charming that I'm still in shock we heard thanks for cleaning their mess...” He sighed, too tired for joking. “Maker, are they so ignorant and arrogant on purpose or do they not even see it?"  
  
Glatywyn just shrugged: "I lived there all my life and still couldn't figure it out. And now everything has changed, but it's all the same: same intrigues, ossified attitude, voluntary isolation from the rest of the world just because someone made them special.” In warm blood she threw her blades back into her sack, pulled her knees to the chest hugging them. “I can't believe I lived among them in the same illusion when the Blight started. We thought we had it under control. But Duncan came and proved us wrong." She fell silent.  
  
"May I ask you, is that why you gave me your family shield?" Alistair had lots of questions about Glatywyn's youth in Orzammar, and the new equipment was a good cause to have this conversation. When she gave him this shield, saying it was “better than what humans make”, he didn't ask about the emblem on it. It was Oghren who later noted that the shield belonged to Aeducan family and technically, Glatywyn had no right to give it anybody else, _“unless she wanted to get kicked out of her family... again. Oh.”_  
  
Glatywyn tensed, but tried to look indifferent.  
  
"Bhelen gave me this as thanks. Except that I don't need his thanks. He may have been a brother once, but he rather resign than apologize. Bhelen is going to help us with the Blight though, and that's fine with me.” With softened voice she added quickly. “Besides, I don't use shields, so I thought you might need it more than me."  
  
“But what about your name, your legacy?” Alistair's brow furrowed.  
  
Glatywyn sighed. “My name is the same, but everything related with Aeducans seems like a taunt now. I don't feel like I'm a part of the clan, or the tribe, or that place anymore. Not after everything that happened. Sadly, you can't choose your kin.” She grinned, but her sharpened eyes bored Alistair as daring him to argue.  
  
He chuckled cheerlessly. "That I agree. I'm still having chills after our encounter with Goldanna, and she's just my half-sister... but your dear brothers are something else. I never knew Trian, but Bhelen is creepy enough for both of them."  
  
“It doesn't matter now, Bhelen is the only one left,” Glatywyn pointed grimly. She lifted her head now looking at stars, as if trying to find the answers in the sky. It felt big, but not heavy, and she felt herself a part of the huge world which should remain a mystery for any respectable Dwarf. “It's funny, I became Warden just recently, but the unity and the spirit of the order is much stronger than in any clan of Orzammar. When I met Duncan and you I started believing that the Blight can be stopped."  
  
Alistair grinned again: "Well, we better stop it then. And the mighty Aeducan shield will help us!" Glatywyn laughed, and he felt relieved. He looked up, too, thinking about people who ever cared about him. Maric, Cailan, Mother, Duncan, who probably were looking at him from the stars, and Arl Eamon, the only one who was still alive. Barely. Alistair shook his head, eyes shut.  
  
Glatywyn's voice came out of nowhere: "My father liked the shield. He promised to give it to the one of us who was worthy...” She let out shaky breath, arms gripped around knees tighter. “But right now, without him, it's just a shield.”  
  
“I'm not sure if it makes you feel better, but I think you are worthy.” Alistair said quietly and she stared at him skeptically. “You've brought peace to your homeland, no matter how much suffering it brought you.”  
  
She smiled weakly. “I'm a Grey Warden, after all. That's what we do. For my father, for Duncan.” Glatywyn found his hand and squeezed it. “But thank you for your words, Alistair. Keep the shield though. As a present from the King.”  
  
“About that,” Alistair spoke clearing his throat. He didn't dare respond to her gesture and tried not to look at her face. “If I got it right, it was Bhelen who organized the conspiracy with your brother's murder? As well as your exile?"  
  
Glatywyn sighed. "You wonder why I gave him the crown after all?" She sounded tired, like she explained this many times before. (To herself, maybe.)  
  
"...among the other things, yes." Alistair nodded. She let go of his hand, covering her brow with it, gathering her thoughts. He still felt warmth in his cheeks (was it fire or his own blood?), but the hand suddenly was cold. Alistair shivered.  
  
"I hope you heard what I said before the coronation, that I don't like him as the king after all.” Glatywyn stated firmly. “And I don't, but Bhelen is the one who can change the life there for good. Casteless of Dust Town will be oppressed no more. No matter how much pain it causes me to say that."  
  
Alistair's eyes widened. "But he thinks now that he's successfully manipulated you and got what he desired--"  
  
"Which isn't worse than what I feel, believe me.” She chuckled bitterly. “It's about vanity. Say, it would be obvious if I chose Harrowmont and had him beheaded Bhelen for a treason. And it would only confirm my reputation as murderer and betrayal of the kin." Now that she said it, Alistair saw the reason.  
  
"Oh. You hope your name will be cleared..." He felt bad for bringing this up, it must have hurt a lot. But Glatywyn grinned again:  
  
"Well, according the latest reports, now Harrowmont supporters hate me, and there are _many_ of them, so it was a double-edged sword anyway. And still I hope that there will be less lies now, though I'm sure Bhelen will use this whole story for his own good."  
  
She knew all the odds and saw there was no winner but made that hard decision anyway. Alistair let out a whistle. "Maker's breath, now I'm absolutely not ready for the throne and its intrigues..."  
  
"Then you'll have to stop them in the root, there's not much of a choice." Said Glatywyn dryly. _She_ would make it as queen, after all. If she ever had a chance. And Bhelen saw that, obviously.  
  
“Blighted king...” Alistair muttered.  
  
“Hmm?” Glatywyn looked at him with curiosity. Humans are too emotional sometimes, she thought. Not that she could blame him for being upset about rules invented long ago and deciding his life for him these days. Everyone deals with the throne as best as they can.  
  
"What? No, nothing. I mean, I've been thinking about the crown long enough, and I'd rather stayed with the family, you know. The Wardens." Alistair shrugged, and Glatywyn gasped.  
  
"What about royal blood and your legacy?" She asked sarcastically. Alistair started coughing.  
  
"Ouch. Well, touché, my lady.” He put his hand on his chest as if hurt. “I'm afraid if I become a king I won't have time to rejoice when the crows come to have their piece of cheese. And they will expect a heir from me, but I'm not even sure--” He stuttered. “Anyway, I better stay where I really can make a difference. The order needs to be rebuilt, so this is where I belong."  
  
Glatywyn nodded, satisfied. "Well, it's just two of us. I wouldn't let you go before you helped me here anyway."  
  
"Chains and ties involved?” He blurted out. “I mean-- no, forget what I said."  
  
"Oh, but I won't." She smiled brightly. “Your Higness.”  
  
"Right," Alistair deadpanned. "Now I won't see the end of this."


	2. Chapter 2

After winning Redcliffe Castle back, the Wardens and their companions returned on the road. In the evening the camp was settled as usual, and after talking to a few comrades (those who were eager to talk anyway), Glatywyn noticed unusually empty place near the campfire. She knew that Zevran was wandering and occasionally ended up in front of Morrigan's tent, Sten found a comfort place for silence near Shale, and Oghren, well, he was already snoring peacefully in his tent.

That left… Alistair, who just vanished. He had looked upset departing from the castle, and Glatywyn supposed he needed some time alone, but then she remembered she found something that might belong to him, something that might cheer him up.

"Last time I saw him, he was walking near the forest that way," Glatywyn was startled by a female voice. She turned around to find Wynn, a small knowing smile on her lips. She was sitting near Leliana, who giggled watching dwarf's confused face. The mage was no longer frowning taking about the Warden and Alsitair. Glatywyn wondered if she was that obvious.

She nodded to women: "My thanks," and set forward the cluster of trees nearby. Even though the Dwarf had months to adapt to the nature of the ground world, the forests still were odd to her. Glatywyn was used to solid walls and ceilings of Orzammar, and only the castle they just left truly reminded her of home. In fact, it was even better, for the building had windows and she would never miss neither solar light nor stars and moon in the night while simultaneously feeling secure and warm.

The forest, on the other hand... She knew that if she lived there long enough she would find how to use this place for her advantage, but for now it seemed too inconsistent, too chaotic.

Thankfully, Alistair didn't walk very far - she found him sitting under a tree that veiled him from the camp. She coughed, bringing his attention. "Mind if I join?"

"Join my brooding?" joked Alistair. It looked almost naturally. "Be my guest." He motioned around, and she shuffled a bit. Since he was comfortable enough with her presence, she breathed in carefully.

"I, uh... found it at arl Eamon’s castle; I think it belongs to you." She took out an old looking locket and handed it to Alistair. He blinked, looking at the object, then up at her (it felt bizarre: while he was sitting she seemed taller than he).

"Looks like my mother’s medallion. But why was it there in the first place?" wondered the man out loud.

"To give it back to you one day, I think. It seemed important to arl." She also thought that if Eamon was conscious and gave Alistair the amulet himself it would be a good reuniting moment for both; but when did it work the way they liked it?

Alistair sighed deeply. "Maker’s Breath... thank you, you have no idea how much it matters to me." After a pause he laughed softly. "You probably do though, since you actually listened to my ramblings." He tried to humour again, but it only gave away his shyness and sincerity more.

He genuinely considered no one payed attention to his words.

"Of course I did listen!" Glatywyn found herself blurting. That brought Alistair's attention from his locket, and he cautiously looked behind her, in the camp direction. Then he squinted his eyes and said with a crooked smile:

"Well, for that I thank you once again." Alistair stretched his arm as if waited for Warden to take it.

"Uh, don’t mention it?" Aeducan said puzzled, taking the hand and shaking it, as she saw humans did. Alistair scoffed softly and shook his head. Taking her hand gently once again he brought it to his lips. Weird habits they have, she scolded, not feeling as irritated as she thought she had to be.

"Maker, you hand is cold," he murmured. "You should get near the fire, Glatywyn."

She shrugged. "I’m fine, really."

"Well then, let me warm it for a bit?" Hope and caring read in his eyes - it felt unusual for Glatywyn. She nodded and motioned for him to get up for a walk, using her hand in his as leverage.

"I bet the other one is as icy," Alistair’s voice rang now from above. Truth being told, her hand was much warmer now, almost burning (as her cheeks), and the wind felt sharper against it.

She wanted to reply when they heard cheerful barking. The mabari ran towards them, and Alistair sighed in annoyance.

"Here it comes, the shaggy doom of the darkspawn," he muttered, and when Glatywyn nudged him in the ribs with her free hand, he caught it.

"He just wants to play!" She accused him, but Alistair scoffed, now pointing an irritated look at her - either for her hand being as cold as he told her or for hitting him. When Meatball was right in front of them, they could see a woolen lump in his jaws, which appeared to be someone’s little toy long time ago.

"See?" Glatywyn laughed, trying to take the present. She freed one hand from his grip, and Alistair pouted, letting go but covering another with both hands just out of spite. "Good boy," she examined the toy quickly and after seating it neatly into her pocket caressed her pet. Meatball’s breath on her palm became warmer when he barked and licked it enthusiastically.

"Aw, where are your manners?" Alistair groaned, scandalized, knowing fully well that the behaviour was perfectly normal for mabari. He was also aware it would only make Glatywyn giggle more.

"For somebody raised by dogs you are too touchy, you know,"she raised an eyebrow and shrugged, still chuckling. "Could be a nag, after all. That’s way worse."

"But what if he licks your face?" Alistair shuddered. "Maker knows what he had in his mouth, yuck." Meatball whined in protest.

"Does mabari’s saliva make you blind or something?" the Dwarf was enjoying uncomfortable turn of the conversation that made Alistair go all dramatic.

It didn’t quite work this time, for he snorted: "How would I know? _My_ face was never in the danger zone. Well, apart from when I was a child."

Glatywyn narrowed her eyes: "Mocking a Dwarf? Oh, that’s _low_ , Alistair. And dangerous." He didn’t have time to respond when she swept her foot under his legs sending him on the ground with surprised yelp. Unfortunately, she couldn’t free her palm from his while doing this, for the man only grabbed it harsher by reflex, pulling her with himself as result.

The dull thud of Alistair’s body and another thump followed by his low grunt when Glatywyn fell on his chest hissing furiously. Meatball barked, sound suspiciously close to laugh.

"Whoa," Alistair groaned, trying to catch his breath. "I stand corrected: _sweeping_ \- is - bad." He punctuated every word with small gulps of air, one of his hands still clutching Glatywyn’s. She rolled her eyes, her other palm laid firmly on his chest giving her some balance.

"Is that what you say when enemy has you pinned down?" She huffed, a little out of breath as well.

"If my enemies were this gorgeous, I’m not sure that I could even fight properly," Alistair exhaled. He looked at the Dwarf, as if realizing he said too much for such compromising position, and quickly turned his eyes elsewhere. Glatywyn’s hand was no longer in his grasp, fingers nearly touching her palm’s skin, not ready to pull away just yet.

"And besides," he drawled, "It’s not that I let darkspawn pin me down in the first place," sly grin creeped at his face, voice slightly hoarse.

Glatywyn scoffed, her eyes wide. "Please. You’re not telling me you fell on your ass _on purpose_."

"A man needs to save his dignity." The smile became sheepish, his voice still low though.

She moved her hands on his shoulders, shifting above him. Alistair held his breath. "Are you trying to say nobody has pinned you down before?" Her face was now closer to his, and she could see tiniest wrinkles in the corners of his eyes when he smiled. Right now his face was pale in shock though.

Clearing his throat, he looked away once again. "Not really. Templar training, living in the Chantry, remember?"

"It’s not a no," she whispered, pulling her hand, turning his head to face her. Alistair sucked air, bracing himself, when another bark nearly made them jump.

Glatywyn hissed in annoyance, lowering her head on her elbow. "Meatball," she whined. Alas, false alarm.

"I think my heart just flew right to my feet and will never come back," Alistair muttered, his hands involuntarily folded around the Dwarf in attempt to protect her.

She shifted again, and he tried to put his hands away from her waist, or her back - just her body in general, but she shook her head in demur. "Wait," she murmured, her arms letting go of him, "Hold me, I don’t wanna fall again."

"It’s not that far anyway," he mumbled, but at her warning glare lifted his hands: "I'm just saying." When she kept staring he rearranged hands back on her waist. "Right, sorry."

She sighed, a smirk threatening to appear nevertheless. "Hold. Still." Stretching to the side, Glatywyn reached to the nearest stick she could find and sat back on his waist, looking around as if searching something.

Meatball tilted his head, curious. She winked at the dog: "Will you bring it to Sten? I’m sure he’ll be glad." With that, she threw the stick in the camp direction. Alistair snorted, and Glatywyn smacked him in the chest lightly.

Mabari blinked, wagging the tail. "Go on Meatball," she encouraged, "Sten can’t wait to play!"

It seemed to have an effect. The dog barked, and ran away. "I wonder if that works," she muttered mostly to herself, watching him go.

"Sten? _Really?_ Why not Morrigan, she would looove to play!" Alistair was amused but still tried to play offended.

She turned her head to him and poked at his side. "Hey, next time you improvise!"

Alistair let out a laugh: "Next time?" When she poked at him again he groaned wiggling under her: "And you keep attacking me for literally no reason."

"Ticklish much?" Glatywyn asked in mocking sympathy while menacingly leaned forward, licking her lips and bringing her arms to Alistair’s chest. He yelped and, before she could do any more damage to his ego, caught her hands in his and took them away from his ribs.

"Way to keep a man’s confidence," he breathed, trying to keep his bravado but failing gracelessly. Her hoarse laughter was worth it, though, and he followed it as well. "It’s just that I liked it more when your hands were here, you know," he placed them gently on his shoulders again, pulling her against him, curling his fingers around her wrists.

"Seems pretty confident to me," Glatywyn argued quietly, biting her lip, a smile growing in its corner. She leaned a little more, as if waiting for his reaction, one of her hands lifting to his jaw to caress it slowly.

Alistair closed his eyes, relaxing, and brought his arms around her again. "What about ‘insufferable’, according to Morrigan?" He grinned, trying to catch her off guard, using this low voice again.

Glatywyn smirked. "That’s even better," she endorsed in whisper, lowering her lips to cover his. His embrace tightened as their bodies were flush together, and Alistair groaned when her hands went to his hair, pulling slightly, pressing herself closer.

When they parted a little, still mere inches apart, Alistair lifted his hand as if trying to focus on her again. She smiled when his palm lingered on her cheek. He lifted his face again, initiating the kiss this time, and she eagerly responded. While her right hand was still in his hair (that was ruined with no amount of regret), the other went down his ear, jaw and settling on his neck.

He squealed again, and Glatywyn pulled back, looking at him worryingly. "Something wrong?"

"Yes," he glared at her. The dwarf’s heart sank. Alistair took her hand off his head. "My hair is now in your dog’s saliva. Do you know what it takes to keep it in perfect shape?"

"Ancestors," she groaned and sat upright while he guffawed. "You scare me like that again," she brought her fingers to his sides, "And I’ll tickle you until you admit that cheese is terrible. Understood?"

He gasped, eyes wide in horror. "You wouldn’t!"

"Oh yes, my dear, I would. And," she lowered her lips to his ear, "There also won’t be any ‘next time’, so you better be careful."

Alistair exhaled. "You had me at cheese," he gave up, voice strangled. His hands went to her waist, sliding to her legs. "You don’t think that cheese is terrible though, do you?" He murmured slowly, sitting up and shifting her in his lap. "Because that," he placed one kiss on her shoulder, "would be," moving lips to her neck, "rather unfortunate," nibbling her earlobe. Glatywyn’s breath hitched, her arms locking his neck. When she didn’t answer Alistair pulled back a little studying her.

Seeing confusion on his face she smirked lightly. "And you’re trying to convince my that you’ve never done this before."

"What can I say?" He grinned back. "I’m good at improvising." She let out a laugh and leaned into him, catching his lips again, the smile still there.

"For the record," she whispered later. "Cheese is not that bad."

Alistair snorted. "Not that bad, huh? Well, I guess that’s a start."

A crooked grin appeared on Glatywyn's face. "Right, now you admit that Meatball is not that bad too."

"Oh no," Alistair whined.

"You're not very excited, are you?" she noted dryly.

He smiled seductively, enfolding her with his arms and pulling closer: "You know that's not true."

"Ready to prove it?"

His face went red, just like the first time they flirted. "I, uh, don't know, do you think it's time?"

Glatywyn grinned, winking at him: "We can wait until the camp's asleep. Or we can just sit here for a while."

"I could work with that," Alistair nodded.

"Great, now you have time to tell me how you like Meatball," she laughed when he groaned, the sound vibrating against her chest.

"I don't hate him. There, happy now?" he asked bemusedly.

She smiled again, kissing him lightly. "That's a start."


End file.
